


Joulupukki

by mistresscurvy



Series: Advent 2017 [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Advent 2017, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 06:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12906090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistresscurvy/pseuds/mistresscurvy
Summary: Olli's had a rough month. Sid decides to make it better.





	Joulupukki

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of the First Sunday of Advent, I am posting a Christmas fic! There will be three more in this series. Thank you to H for the encouragement.

It had been a rough month. 

After weeks of feeling like their play was stuck in a never ending cycle of one step forward, two steps back, they had finally managed to win two games in a row, and Olli had thought that maybe they were building some momentum. Instead, they managed to lose narrowly to the fucking Blackhawks, which was always annoying, and then they got completely outplayed by Vancouver again. In isolation either of those losses wouldn't feel quite so terrible, but he'd felt really good after two days of practice, and instead it all fell apart. 

Everyone had said all the right things about building off of the good things from both games, and Olli was getting much better at leaving the past in the past. He felt good about this team, even if he wasn't quite sure how it all fit together yet, and the team Thanksgiving on Thursday night in Boston was a nice opportunity to make fun of the Americans for putting marshmallows on vegetables and eat more pie than he would normally allow himself during the season.

It was hard to remember how nice that had been by the end of the following afternoon, after losing again in a close one to the Bruins. They'd come back to tie it and things had seemed like they were going the right way for them, finally, but that final goal from Boston had been a backbreaker. Olli didn't know what he needed to do to get over this one. Nothing seemed to have worked so far. But what he did know was that he was sick and tired of listening to Mike and Gonch and Sid and Tanger say that as long as they kept doing the right things, the results would come, because right now he didn't believe it and it made him want to punch something. 

Which was why when Sid sat down next to him on the flight back to Pittsburgh, he lied. 

"Hey Olli, everything alright?" Sid asked quietly. Olli knew Sid was just making the rounds, checking in with everyone and making sure there wasn't an attitude boil that needed to be lanced before they faced the Lightning in twenty-four hours. 

So Olli said, "Yeah, I'm fine," his voice sounding less than convincing even to his own ears. 

Sidney Crosby was nothing if not stubborn. "If there's something going on that I can help with, let me know." 

And that was the problem, really—Sid was doing what he needed to do, and Olli felt like he was doing that, too, on the ice, at least. But they were still losing and Olli was just being a baby who wanted to go home and cry or crawl in a corner and lick his wounds for a bit. But they didn't have time for that, and besides, that wasn't Sid's problem to fix, captain or not. 

He couldn't just say that, though. Instead, he gave a little shrug, and said the first thing that came to mind. "Yeah, I just get a bit homesick this time of year, that's all."

"Yeah?" Sid asked, sounding surprised. 

Well, he'd committed himself to this. Olli nodded. "Between the Thanksgiving dinner, and all the lights and stuff up in Boston, it just makes me miss home. I love this time of year," he said, and that, at least, wasn't a lie. The long days of summer back home were glorious, but he also looked forward to winter and to Christmas in particular. It just wasn't what he was really stewing about right now. 

Sid seemed to accept it easily enough. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to go home for Christmas, but then, it’s not so different for me down here. Not like it is for you.” 

“Well, it’s not just me,” Olli said, suddenly uncomfortable. “Lots of other guys are far from home.” But not all of them acted like a little kid over it, he thought to himself. 

Sid clapped him on the leg. “Thanks for telling me, Olli.”

“Of course,” Olli said automatically, watching Sid as he stood up to continue his rounds through the plane. He sat back in his seat and closed his eyes, telling himself firmly to get some rest. 

* 

That conversation was quickly forgotten in the wake of a decisive victory against Tampa Bay and a back and forth adventure versus Philadelphia. Both wins made it easier to believe that things were actually turning around for them, led by Sid doing Sid things and the rest of the team doing just enough to stay on top. The trip up to Toronto and the Hall of Fame felt earned after those two wins, and Olli let himself watch and enjoy how Sid looked like a kid in a candy shop, overwhelmed by how much there was to see. 

All of that felt even more deserved when they outplayed the Sabres for their third win in a row, only the second time they had managed that long of a winning streak all season. The plane ride back to Pittsburgh was totally different than the one from Boston a week earlier, everyone loud and boisterous and confident. Still, Olli wasn’t surprised to see Sid walking up and down the aisle again. This season he hadn’t settled into a new permanent seat partner, and seemed to prefer to be up and about for as much of the flights as he could be. 

Sid sat down next to him, and Olli waited patiently for whatever analysis of Olli’s play Sid would provide, quietly confident that it would more or less amount to “keep up the good work.”

Instead, Sid leaned closer to him and asked, “Hey, are you around Sunday night?” 

He had said it so quietly that Olli was certain he had misheard him at first. “I should be?”

Sid nodded. “Well, you could come over to my house for dinner. We could watch football,” he added after Olli didn’t say anything for a solid couple of seconds. 

“Sure,” Olli said finally, wracking his brains trying to think of the last time he’d hung out with just Sid. “Just let me know what time.”

Sid gave him a half grin. “I’ll text you,” he said, and was up and down the aisle chatting with Horny before Olli could say anything back. 

Their good luck continued on Saturday, with Olli contributing a point and the entire team looking good. When the worst part of the game was giving up a chance at a second consecutive shutout for Jars, it was safe to say things were back on track. Sunday started off as a fairly normal recovery day for Olli, with a late start to his morning and an easier workout than he usually allowed himself. He watched the one o’clock games with a fairly disinterested eye; his fantasy team had been a disaster from the start this season, but he wanted to pay enough attention so that when Sid inevitably attempted to trash talk him about it he could respond. When he hadn’t heard from Sid by four, he texted him to find out if he should bring wine. 

After waiting almost half an hour for a text back, Olli began to wonder if he had hallucinated that entire conversation on the plane. He and Sid didn’t text often, but Sid was generally a very prompt texter. Somehow Olli felt like he was the one imposing, rather than being polite. 

Sid’s reply, when it finally came, didn’t help much. _No no, we’ll grab something from my cellar. Come by anytime after 5:30_

Olli sighed. Maybe he would stop off at the bakery to pick up some gluten-free cookies. Even if Sid was determined not to allow Olli to be a polite guest, that didn’t mean he had to follow suit.

He found himself at Sid’s door an hour later, sheepishly holding a box of cookies that tasted terrible, for all he knew. Sid’s landscaper had already fully decorated the outside of Sid’s house, including a tasteful wreath on the front door and one of the pines covered in white lights. Olli told himself to stop being ridiculous and rang the bell. 

After an anxious moment, Sid pulled open the door. He was in a dark grey sweater, jeans and woolen socks, and his hair looked softer than the styled helmet he preferred for any press events. “Hi, Olli. Oh, you didn’t have to bring anything.”

Olli ignored him and shoved the cookies into his hands. “I don’t know if they’re any good but they’re gluten-free.” 

“Oh.” Sid was smiling at him now, his face softly lit by the glow from the tree lights. “Thank you. Come on in.”

Olli followed him in, toeing off his boots and hanging his coat up. The inside of Sid’s house was also fully decorated; a giant tree was in his great room just to the right of his fireplace. There was already a fire going, and the whole place felt warm and inviting and oddly like home. 

It also smelled a bit like home, Olli realized, inhaling deeply. “What’s, ah. What’s on the menu?” 

He watched Sid’s face flush pink, the color in his cheeks matching his lips. “Come on into the kitchen.” 

Bewildered, Olli followed him in and stared at the spread covering the oversized island. The huge ham stood out first, but then he saw the beets and what looked like rutabaga casserole and—

“Did you make lutefisk?” he demanded. He probably sounded more angry than baffled, but he wasn’t fully in control of his emotions. 

“I have a great fishmonger, and I like to cook,” Sid said. He had the decency to at least look a little sheepish. 

“But why?” 

“You were homesick,” Sid said, and Olli suddenly remembered that conversation on the plane a week ago. “So I googled a bunch of stuff, and there was a website with recipes for a traditional Finnish Christmas meal. I know it should be on Christmas Eve, but I didn’t think you should have to wait.” 

Olli stared at the meal, speechless. It wasn’t exactly like what he’d had at home, but it was the closest he’d come since he left Jyväskylä six years ago. 

“I went too far, huh,” Sid said while Olli was still trying to process it all. “I know I can do that.” He shrugged, and Olli watched as the mask began to slip over Sid’s expression, like he was about to give an interview. "I’m sorry if I—"

Sid was cut off by Olli finally getting his act together and kissing him. Olli didn’t claim to always understand how Sid’s mind worked, but if preparing lutefisk for Olli meant anything other than this, Olli would eat his hat. 

For a moment Sid was still against Olli’s lips, and then he made a small sound and kissed Olli back, his hands resting softly on Olli’s hips. Olli threaded his hands through Sid’s hair and let the kiss deepen, trying to say through his lips what Sid had relied on rutabaga for. 

He let out a giggle at the thought, and Sid pulled away just far enough to rest his forehead against Olli’s. “What?” 

Olli thought about telling him the truth, that he hadn’t really been homesick at all, and that Sid had just been painfully thoughtful under false pretenses. Instead he grinned and asked, “So what other Finnish traditions did you learn about?”

“Uh, I mostly focused on the food,” Sid said, sounding a bit breathless. _I did that,_ Olli thought smugly. 

“This must have taken you all day,” Olli said. 

Sid shrugged. “I really like to cook,” he said again, and Olli flushed at the unspoken implication. 

“Well, I have to say I’m disappointed not to see Joulupukki,” Olli said, keeping a straight face with effort. 

“Say that again slower,” Sid demanded. 

“Joulupukki,” Olli said, enunciating carefully. 

Sid repeated it after him. “Is that a dessert?” 

“It’s the Yule goat,” Olli said, unable not to laugh at Sid’s expression. 

“You eat goat?” 

“Don’t mock my culture, man,” Olli said, and cut Sid off before he could start apologizing. “And no, he brings us presents.” 

Sid stared at him. “Your Santa Claus is a _goat?_ ” He sounded half suspicious and half delighted. 

“Sometimes he takes presents, too, or used to,” Olli said, trying to remember the stories his grandmother used to tell him. 

“He steals from children?” Now Sid just sounded baffled. 

Olli shrugged. “They probably deserved it.” He burst out laughing at the outrage on Sid’s face. “Whatever, at least we don’t give kids coal.”

“That’s different,” Sid muttered, and Olli rolled his eyes. “You’re not making this up?” 

“I swear it’s real. Usually we just have a normal Santa, but sometimes they dress up like a goat man still.”

Sid shook his head. “Alright. What else?” 

“Well,” Olli said, letting his hand slide down Sid’s arm and taking his hand, “we have another big tradition.” He pulled Sid out of the kitchen and into the great room.

“Yeah?”

“Instead of kissing under the mistletoe we fuck under the Christmas tree.” 

Sid let out a honk of a laugh. “You’re full of shit.” 

“And then we get into the sauna, it’s very traditional,” Olli said, laughing when Sid tackled him onto the couch, which to be fair was probably more comfortable than Sid’s hardwood floor. 

“Shut up,” Sid said before kissing him, and then they both shut up for a bit. 

Finally Olli pulled away, nervous again. “So this was really great.” He tugged a little at the collar of Sid’s sweater, the texture of the knit soft to his fingertips. “You’re welcome to come over on Christmas Eve and see how my family does it, if you want.”

“Your parents are coming over?” Sid was studying him intently. 

“Yeah, and my brothers, too. Pretty full house. You can tell me where to get my lutefisk.” Olli made a mental note to email his mom about that. 

“I’d really like that,” Sid said, almost shyly. 

“Good,” Olli said, and gave him a quick kiss. “You’ll get to meet the most important symbol of our Christmas, the Boxing Day Badger.” 

“Oh my god, shut up,” Sid said, and Olli kissed him again and did just that.

**Author's Note:**

> Like Sid, all of my information about Finnish Christmas traditions was obtained via google. Apologies for any inaccuracies. The Christmas Eve menu is taken from [here.](http://www.dlc.fi/~marian1/gourmet/season1.htm)


End file.
